


a lover is standing too close to focus on

by sugarybowl



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-31
Updated: 2018-12-31
Packaged: 2019-10-01 03:19:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,234
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17236388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugarybowl/pseuds/sugarybowl
Summary: “You know some people say, that hell is actually a cold and icy place. So, like, be the snowball.”





	a lover is standing too close to focus on

**Author's Note:**

  * For [pinkys_creature_feature](https://archiveofourown.org/users/pinkys_creature_feature/gifts).



Arthur calls it a night before any of them, because he has appearances to keep up, and The Responsible One is the appearance he appears most fond of. As soon as they hear his steps fade down the staircase, Yusuf turns to the other two with a sly grin.

“You ever heard the phrase _a snowball’s chance in hell_ , Eames?”

“You don’t have to be mean about it Yusuf,” Ari says as she hides into her mug of tea, “also that’s not true Eames. You know he can’t take his eyes off your ass half the time. I’m actually surprised the two of you aren’t going at it at already.”

“Oh, he can get him into bed, I would never doubt our Eames’ ability to do that,” Yusuf says, “but that isn’t what you want is it my friend?”

“You don’t have to be mean about it Yusuf,” Eames echoes, except he follows it by downing the rest of his beer and flipping him off.

“So,” Ari starts as she sets her chunky mug down, “what is it that Eames wants?”

“Eames wants something stronger than a beer and for his so-called friends to stop pontificating about his thoughts,” Eames says as he heaves himself towards the fridge.

“Eames wants,” Yusuf dares to attempt, but then Eames slams his third bottle of cheap beer very forcefully onto the table and Ari reaches out to touch his wrist and the conversation drops.

They talk about other things, they talk about how their names have become tangled up in the business and how mad it would be to attempt inception again without Cobb, they talk about when the prospect has tempted them and the many ways it could go wrong and the many ways it could go so much better the next try. Eventually, the talking tapers down as Yusuf starts snoring on the end of an old couch and Ari curls up into Eames’ chest and whispers to him.

“You know some people say, that hell is actually a cold and icy place. So, like, be the snowball.”

Eames kisses the top of her drowsy nonsensical head and draws her closer into his arms and pictures himself, a snowball.

-

When they first gathered for this job– it became apparent that Ariadne was pregnant. They didn’t, well, they didn’t talk about it – but she was. She was a very small person and it was not an easy thing to hide even if none of them had any idea when or how it came about. Well, obviously Arthur and everyone else knew _how_ , but it wasn’t like they knew who the father might be or whether they were together or whether she was going to keep the child or anything at all. As an unspoken rule, not one of them had ever talked about it. They very much behaved as if Ariadne had always been a tiny wobbling thing and would always be. It was driving Arthur insane.  It wasn’t the only mystery Arthur has been tormented by.

One day, a few weeks into the project, Eames became morose – quiet when he was always too loud and… subtle. Eames had never been, should never be, subtle. He would skulk around their work space doing actual work and not making any comments about Arthur’s speech patterns or the amount of product in his hair or his suits. Arthur couldn’t fathom what had caused the change and then like lighting, like the flash flood Eames has always been, it’s gone. He’s loud and brash and impossible to ignore just like he always has been. He was gentle around Ariadne, it was true, but then he had always been that – which is when the thought came. It was a small quiet thought that whispered into the twisting angles of his brain. If his mind weren’t more heavily militarized than a guerilla camp in the south American jungle he would even hazard a guess that he had been incepted. Yet, the thought persisted, a simple line drawn between two mysterious dots. And it shouldn’t matter, in fact, it should make him happy. But the thought grows larger and stronger in his mind until it’s the only thing he can think about.

He turns to ask Eames about his forge progress and finds him huddled in conference with Ariadne’s belly. He brings Ari his notes on the blueprints she ran by him and finds her cackling with laughter at something Eames has just said, arms wrapped around her belly. He comes down for a glass of water hours after he’s left them all for bed and finds Ariadne and Eames together on the couch in a picture of perfect sleep. It makes sense. It should make him happy. The thought snowballs. Arthur is in hell.

 -

Eames didn’t expect the kick, they weren’t going that deep for that long and the plan was to time themselves out of the trial run, but there it was – a kick. He jumps awake beside Arthur, similarly startled by the unexpected kick and it takes a moment but they both seem to realize what woke them at the same time. They’re on the ground, which is wet, their chairs unfolded beside them. An architect can build things and, logically, make them fall apart very quickly.

“Ari?”

She smiles at them just enough to reassure them that she’s okay and then winces and looks panicked which makes all that reassurance evaporate.

“I guess it’s going to be a Spanish baby then? I don’t even know how to make churros. How am I ever going to –“

She winces again, which seems to snap both men out of it and then there is fussing and rushing and calling Yusuf and calling Dom who is the only one who has actually been near this situation before and is too busy being angry that no one told him Ari was pregnant to be any help at all.

And then they’re on uncomfortable chairs in the maternity ward of a Madrid hospital in uncomfortable silence.

“Is either one of you the father?”

Arthur blinks up at the nurse, his throat tight and dry. His Spanish is better than Eames’ but he cannot make himself speak and then the next words out of Eames’ mouth roughly translate to _‘possibly somewhere in Brazil or perhaps Argentina – she was very vague, I am the child’s godfather, are they okay?’._

The nurse informs them that it may be a few hours yet and they should go get things for her to be more comfortable and perhaps the future godfather should stay, in case the timetable changes. When she leaves, Arthur turns to Eames and blinks.

“Godfather?”

“I will be making every joke and pun available to me up to and beyond their 18th birthday, yes.”

Arthur feels the smile break on his face and he doesn’t care, he feels the thought that has been eating at him melt away, “You aren’t the baby’s father?”

“No,” Eames squints at him, “What is your face doing?”

“I’m smiling,” Arthur answers, reveling in the relief he feels.

“Yes, I can see that,” Eames says softly, “why?”

“I’m not sure…” he says as Eames leans closer to him, “what are you doing?”

“I’m not sure,” he echoes, tucking his finger under Arthur’s chin and bringing their lips just a moment away from each other’s, “I think I’m being the snowball.”

 


End file.
